Secrets of Cinderella’s Awakening by Sharon Kendrick
CHAPTER SIX
AMBERSUNLIGHTSLANTEDin through the windows of the tiny London pub and although a TV screen was showing highlights of a hugely anticipated football match, most people were watching the bubbly blonde who was waving a half-empty champagne flute in the air.
‘Ooh, I’m just so thrilled! I can’t believe it, Marnie,’ she was cooing. ‘After all the dire predictions the court just threw the case out!’
Marnie shook her head and smiled. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she breathed. ‘And no, I can’t quite believe it either.’
They were sitting in the nearest pub to the courthouse in central London, while her sister celebrated her acquittal in typical, flamboyant style. She was wearing a leopard-skin jacket over a very short black dress and her bottom-length blonde hair was accessorised with a glittering gold headband. It probably wasn’t the best choice of clothing in which to attend an important court hearing and Marnie had been amazed at the eventual outcome. All charges against her sister had been quashed, the surprising verdict no doubt due to Pansy’s slick new barrister who had defeated the prosecution lawyer with his clever arguments and was now joining them for a celebratory glass of prosecco.
Pansy’s new barrister.
As the euphoria following the verdict began to evaporate, Marnie’s buzzing mind started focussing on Walker Lapthorne, who had made a dramatic, eleventh-hour appearance at the beginning of the trial. A handsome and sophisticated lawyer who didn’t come cheap. Marnie had looked up his rates soon after his unexpected appearance at the start of the case and had stared at them in disbelieving horror. Who on earth could afford to employ someone of his calibre? She remembered the panic which had flooded through her. What if Pansy had done something completely dumb—like taking out a bank loan to hire one of the country’s best barristers to defend her? And why was she now batting her eyelashes at the russet-haired attorney as if she were completely smitten? Marnie had tried to get her sister alone ever since they’d sat down in the pub, but had met with a deliberate stonewalling by her twin, and a refusal to budge from Walker’s side.
Well, there was nothing else for it but to ask the question out loud.
Marnie cleared her throat. ‘Mr Lapthorne?’
‘Walker, please.’
‘Walker. Firstly, a great big thank you for helping my sister get the justice she deserves.’
The lawyer smiled. ‘My pleasure.’
Marnie lowered her voice. ‘I’m assuming you weren’t appointed to be Pansy’s lawyer through legal aid?’
He nodded, his expression growing slightly veiled. ‘Your assumption is correct.’
‘And I know she couldn’t possibly afford to pay your fees.’ Marnie fixed her twin with a questioning look. ‘You didn’t pay them, did you, Pan?’
‘Of course I didn’t,’ spluttered her twin. ‘How could I?’
Her innocence sounded genuine and Marnie found herself despairing at the way her sister had always operated. She had always closed her mind off to the unpleasant things in life if she suspected they might compromise her in some way. It was presumably why she had agreed to carry a bag which wasn’t hers for a smooth-talking boyfriend. And if a mysterious lawyer had appeared out of the blue and informed her he was going to be her saviour, Pansy would simply have smiled and said yes, please.
But if Pansy hadn’t paid for the services of Walker Lapthorne, then who had?
Briefly, Marnie closed her eyes as an unwanted image swam into her mind. Of a man with blue eyes which blazed like sapphires and a naked body bathed silver by the light of the stars.
He wouldn’t.
Would he?
Not when she had expressly told him not to.
She forced herself to continue. ‘So, who did employ you to take on this job, Mr Lapthorne?’
The lawyer’s voice acquired a little edge. ‘I’m really not at liberty to say, Miss Porter.’
Marnie nodded. She wanted to ask him more but acknowledged the finality in his tone. And anyway—if her suspicions were correct—how on earth could she explain away such a random and generous action on the part of the Greek tycoon? Would she honestly want Pansy to know the reason why Leon had done it—or Walker, if he hadn’t already guessed?
Repeating her congratulations, she rose to her feet, kissed her sister goodbye and let herself out of the pub, stepping into a flurry of leaves, their dark swirl controlled by an autumn wind which had suddenly grown biting. Although she had the rest of the day off, she was reluctant to go home just yet—not with all these unanswered questions swirling around in her head. She bought herself a takeaway coffee, carried it to one of the nearby garden squares and sat down on an iron bench.
It had to be Leon.
But Leon lived in Greece.
A wave of confusion washed over her. He hadn’t actually told her that, had he? In fact, he had told her remarkably little about himself—something she could strongly identify with, but not in these particular circumstances.
Putting her coffee down, she took out her phone and tapped his name into the search engine and there it was. Thousands of entries about the Kanonidou empire, less so about the man himself. But several things became instantly apparent. That Leon had a home and a branch of his company in central London—and he had flown into the capital just the week before!
So it could have been him.
Who else would have done it?
Marnie’s throat dried and her heart began to race. She needed to find out for sure and then to...to what? To thank him? Of course she was grateful—hugely grateful—but she couldn’t quite shake off her air of suspicion. She’d never met anyone who did something for nothing—which made her wonder just why he had done it.
But these thoughts were nothing but self-indulgence. If her hunch was correct then Leon had been unbelievably generous towards her sister and she needed to tell him that. What was she so afraid of? But she knew that, too. She was scared of the way he made her feel. Scared of the things he made her want. She’d been thinking of little other than him since she’d flown back from Greece and touched down at a rainy Stansted airport. Hadn’t she returned to work at the salon unable to stop fixating on him, causing a couple of her colleagues to remark that she had been unusually quiet and preoccupied? And they had been right.
She focussed her search on the whereabouts of his London offices and discovered they were in Mayfair, not far from Bond Street Tube station. Soon she was standing outside a small, modern block of offices which sat comfortably beside the imposing splendour of its eighteenth-century neighbours.
As she headed towards a discreet smoked glass door bearing the Kanonidou name, Marnie felt a sudden onset of nerves. Couldn’t she have sent him a thank-you card, or a bottle of whisky in a flashy wooden box? She found herself wondering if she was using his interference as an excuse to see him again and whether this was the start of a slippery slope which was only ever going to lead downwards.
Her mind kept returning to their last meeting, when she’d told him about Pansy and had refused the help he’d offered. She remembered feeling empowered as she had announced that she didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. But he had ridden roughshod over her wishes and done it anyway, hadn’t he?What kind of arrogance was that?
She remembered the terrible, sweet tension which had sizzled between them, with her alternately praying he would kiss her, then praying he wouldn’t. And he hadn’t. He had walked away without a backward glance and that had made her feel dark and lonely inside, her stomach twisted into knots of regret and rejection.
She caught a glance of herself reflected back in the glass of the Kanonidou building. The wind had managed to free some of the hair which she had coiled into a sensible updo for the court hearing, and the sober charcoal suit she had hoped would reflect well on her wayward sister made her look as if she were moonlighting as a bailiff. But she wasn’t here because she wanted to appear attractive to the Greek billionaire. She was here to say her thanks, and then leave.
What if he wasn’t here?
Well, it was too late to change her mind because a revolving door was expelling her into a huge reception area, filled with jungle-like foliage, and Marnie felt as out of place as she’d ever felt—especially when she noticed a uniformed security guard studying her from between narrowed eyes. A beautiful brunette behind a wide desk was sending a questioning look in her direction, the angle of her jaw suggesting that Marnie had no right to be here.
But she did.
She most certainly did.
Trying not to feel overwhelmed by the cavernous dimensions of the place, she made her way to the desk—fixing her face with the determined expression she’d used with social workers during most of her turbulent childhood.
‘I’d like to see Leon Kanonidou, please,’ she said.
‘I’m afraid Mr Kanonidou doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.’
‘How do you know I haven’t got an appointment?’
The brunette gave a serene smile. ‘Because I have his diary sitting right in front of me and your name isn’t on it.’
‘But you don’t know my name.’
‘No, but I do know all the people on his list and you aren’t among them.’
Marnie chewed on her lip. In a way she admired the woman’s resolve, which was easily a match with her own—but if this receptionist thought she was going to slink away from here with her tail between her legs, then she thought wrong.
‘Tell him Marnie Porter is here,’ she said quietly. ‘He’ll see me.’
It was amazing how many insecurities you could hide behind a mask of bravado, but for once in her life Marnie was sure of herself, confident that Leon would see her. Because wasn’t there something powerful which pulled her to him and vice versa? Some unseen force which flowed between them—as strong as molten metal. Wasn’t it that same force which had made him hire an expensive lawyer to get her sister out of a fix? Which had brought her here today, even though every atom of her body was telling her it was dangerous.
The receptionist’s perfect brow pleated into a frown as she picked up a phone and had a brief conversation which resulted in her giving a grudging nod. But any triumph Marnie felt at having got her own way was short-lived, because the realisation that she was actually going to face Leon again was making her feel dizzy. Would she have gained some kind of immunity to him by now? Would she be able to look at him without wanting him to pin her down onto the nearest horizonal surface?
As a flash elevator swished her upwards, she wished she’d had the good sense to use a bathroom to repair her wayward hair and perhaps apply a slick of lipstick. She had already decided she didn’t particularly care about impressing him, but she didn’t want to come over as looking a total mess. But the elevator doors were sliding open and another gorgeous brunette was waiting outside. Did he order them from a catalogue? she wondered. This one was dressed in a neat black pencil skirt, a pristine white silk shirt and vertiginous black heels.
‘Miss Porter?’ the woman questioned.
Marnie nodded. ‘That’s me. I’ve come to see Leon.’
‘If you’d like to come this way. Kyrios Kanonidou is expecting you.’
No time for second thoughts, just time to breathe deeply in a vain attempt to calm the wild thunder of her heart—while Marnie followed the black pencil skirt over a softly carpeted floor and into a vast office, whose windows overlooked the carefully tended grass of Hanover Square.
A lifetime of being summoned into alien offices had honed her ability to take a rapid measure of the tycoon’s inner lair and, naturally, it was impressive. Spectacular paintings covered the walls, making it far less impersonal than most offices. There were big windows with amazing views and an even bigger desk, on which she could see a fancy cream card edged in gleaming gold, which looked like an invitation.
And then she noticed Leon standing on the other side of the room, watching her—the faintest of curves tilting his hard mouth into an ironic smile. As if he were used to being the first thing someone looked at, not the last. What did his expression tell her? Was that bemusement she could read? It was difficult to tell. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the bright light—trying to get her head around the fact that this was the man who had kissed her, and held her. Who had taken her virginity with a consummate skill which had made her want to weep with disbelieving joy.
Yet today he looked like a stranger in his smart city clothes. An intimate stranger in a dark suit and a sapphire tie which echoed his spectacular eyes. She felt poleaxed by his presence, aware of her stinging breasts, which had started rubbing against her bra, and the rush of syrupy heat to her panties. It was as if her body were acknowledging him with ecstatic familiarity, even if her mind remained deeply mistrustful. She had certainly not acquired any desired immunity, she realised, too late.
‘Marnie,’ he said, his rich voice caressing her skin like velvet. ‘This is an unexpected surprise.’
‘Is it really?’ she questioned quietly and when he didn’t answer, she continued. ‘Did you pay for my sister’s defence lawyer, Leon?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Did Walker tell you?’
She shook her head. ‘He didn’t break any confidentiality clause, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Then how did you find out?’
‘I guessed it was you. Who else could it have been?’
He met her gaze. ‘My actions were intended to be anonymous.’
‘But you must have known I would try to find out.’
‘Your powers of detection weren’t my primary concern at the time, Marnie,’ he said drily.
She flushed. ‘No, of course not.’
He stared at her, eyebrows raised. ‘So?’
‘I came here to...to thank you. And to ask...’ She swallowed before the words came tumbling out in a rush. ‘To ask why you did it.’
The sigh Leon had been holding back left his lips at last because here came the infernal conundrum. Why had he done it? He had admired Marnie’s passionate defence of her sister and her total belief in her innocence, that was for sure. The matter had been none of his business and she had told him to stay out of it, yet he despised unfairness and knew how situations could be weighted against you because of prejudice, or because you didn’t have enough money to fight your corner.
But his interjection had been motivated by factors other than sympathy and the ability to help, and one of those had been a deep and lingering frustration. Had he subconsciously envisaged this very scenario, that she would come to him like this? Yes, he had. Of course he had. Initially, he’d thought that out of sight would be out of mind and he would quickly forget the feisty little blonde. It had been both irritating and perplexing to discover that hadn’t been the case at all, and that he’d been thinking about her far more than was necessary. In fact, he’d been thinking about her a lot.
Maybe it was because Marnie Porter had given him a glimpse into a different kind of world—the kind he wasn’t familiar with. One where the odds were stacked up against you if you happened to be poor. His own upbringing had been far from perfect but it had always been affluent. He’d always had the best that money could buy. And yet that made no difference. Money didn’t make you happy.
His mouth hardened.
Wasn’t he the living proof of that?
He watched as she readjusted the strap of her shoulder bag and thought how uncomfortable she looked in her ‘smart’ clothes. Yet, ironically, the badly cut jacket and skirt somehow managed to tantalise him. Was it because they hinted at the delicious flesh he knew lay beneath, rather than clinging to her voluptuous frame and announcing it to the world? Had bedding a virgin turned him into a latter-day prude? he wondered wryly.
‘I did it because of what you told me,’ he explained slowly. ‘Your anger at your sister’s imprisonment was very...affecting. As was your belief in her innocence. I don’t like injustice and I was in a position to do something about it. So I did.’
‘Just like that?’ she said faintly.
He shrugged. ‘Walker is a top-class lawyer who has done some brilliant work over the years. I had him take a look at your sister’s case and he concurred that she was likely to be given a custodial sentence. So I asked if he would investigate further and he agreed. He went to see her in jail, believed in her innocence and then took her on as his client. You know the rest.’
She fixed that grey gaze on him, fierce and unwavering. ‘Even though I’d explicitly said I didn’t want to be beholden to you?’
‘But you aren’t,’ he objected. ‘Not in any way. If the money I paid to employ Walker is really bugging you, you can walk straight out of here, speak to one of my assistants and arrange to pay back the fees. Take as long as you like—a lifetime if you wish—I don’t care. But we both know that would be a futile gesture because I don’t need the money. I already have more than I know what to do with.’
‘Then maybe you should try giving some away to charity!’ she challenged.
‘I already do.’
‘And I suppose you consider me and my sister to be your latest charity?’
‘Now there’s a thought. What would we call it, I wonder?’ he mused. ‘The Proud Porter Charity?’
She pursed her lips in what looked like a disapproving gesture but a brief giggle escaped from them nonetheless, and Leon felt an unexpected flicker of achievement—as if he had done something remarkable by coaxing a smile from her. As if a man would have to work very hard to amuse this little hairdresser—and since he had never had to put in much effort for a woman before, the novelty value of that was also appealing. And didn’t her smile kick-start his imagination? Didn’t the soft curve of her lips plant a very graphic picture in his mind about on which particular part of his anatomy he’d like to feel them?
‘Anyway,’ she said, shifting a little awkwardly on a pair of extremely unflattering shoes. ‘I’ve said thank you and I’m sure Pansy would echo that.’
‘Shall we go and have a drink to toast her freedom?’
She regarded him suspiciously. ‘When?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘What about right now?’
‘It’s the middle of the afternoon!’
‘So? Haven’t you ever drunk champagne in the middle of the afternoon?’
The look on her face suggested she had not and, even though Leon was already doubting the wisdom of his invitation, he seemed powerless to stop himself from pursuing it.
‘Come on, Marnie,’ he continued softly. ‘What do you have to lose?’
But she shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I have to get home and anyway, I’m not dressed to go for a drink.’
For a moment Leon was so surprised and yes, so irritated by her refusal that he was tempted to let her walk right out of that door. And then his gaze was drawn to the unwanted invitation to his father’s wedding, which was lying in a prominent position on his desk, and he reminded himself that sometimes life’s pleasures needed to be grabbed at.
‘Then how about you let me give you a lift home instead?’ he questioned evenly. ‘To Act On.’
